Once Upon A Broken Heart
by Alydia Rackham
Summary: Cora sends Regina to kill Captain Hook, citing that he will go after Henry. But Regina's heart whispers suspicion, and she disobeys her mother. Spoilers for "In the Name of the Brother."
1. Chapter 1

_Cora sends Regina to kill Captain Hook, citing that he will go after Henry. But Regina's heart whispers suspicion, and she disobeys her mother. Spoilers for "In the Name of the Brother."_

ONCE UPON A BROKEN HEART

Alydia Rackham

Regina stood at the foot of the hospital bed, arms folded. Motionless. She listened as the heart monitor steadily beeped. She watched as his chest rose and fell.

He was sleeping. Handcuffs bound his right arm to the metal rail. Blankets covered him, up to his broad chest, but she could see he still wore his colorful, ragged clothing. Bloody cuts marked his lip and his forehead. Bruises marred his otherwise handsome face, and his pallor brought out how black his short beard, hair, eyebrows and eyelashes were. It seemed as if he'd hardly been attended to. As if they'd simply shoved him into this room, attached the machines to him and thrown a blanket over his form, then left. As if they had decided that an amnesiac Belle and an infuriated Dark One warranted more of their attention than Captain Killian Jones. Otherwise known as Captain Hook.

_"First things first, sweetheart._" Her mother's firm, soothing voice echoed in Regina's memory. "_He came with me to this realm to exact vengeance upon Rumpelstiltskin. What do you believe he will do now that Rumpelstiltskin has left with Emma Swan? Risk tracking him through a land he does not know? Of course not. Perhaps he will attack Belle, in hopes of luring him back—but Belle is under the protection of Snow White, and her charming prince, as well as a legion of allies. While their focus is upon her, do you not think he will try a different angle? Perhaps attempt to bring _Emma _back? If Rumpelstiltskin needs her assistance so badly, do you not suppose he may come along? But what would bring Emma back, I wonder? Perhaps…something that both you and she hold dearest to your hearts…?"_

Her mother had not needed to say Henry's name. Regina had felt her full meaning with every word she spoke.

_"Go, sweetheart. Take his heart. Bring me the dust. Protect your child."_

Regina stepped forward, her jaw tightening. She eased silently up to his right side, and glanced across his frame. He kept breathing. Kept sleeping.

He had no idea he was about to die.

Regina's hip touched the side of the bed. She held out her right hand, slowly reaching down toward him. Her palm hovered over his heart.

She hesitated.

Her thoughts stilled. She gazed down into his face.

For an eternal moment, she stood, completely still.

She lowered her hand, and rested it on the tattered material between two buttons on his coat.

His brow furrowed. His throat made a swallowing movement.

As if her touch hurt him.

Regina's thoughts rolled forward again. Like a heavy stone in a worn path. Deliberate. Weighty, and silent. She kept her hand where it was. But she put no pressure upon him. Her eyes narrowed.

Then, she curled her fingers tightly around the front edge of his coat, took a swift breath, bent down over him and closed her eyes—

And the next instant, in a whirl of black and purple smoke, she vanished them, leaving the handcuffs clanking against the rail.

_To be continued…_

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	2. Chapter 2

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_Enjoy!_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER TWO

"_Once upon a broken heart_

_I was walking alone in the dark_

_Looking for a way to start again_

_What I wouldn't give for a friend."_

-_The Beu Sisters_

They flashed back into existence in complete blackness. And Regina had to dive forward and catch his upper body before it struck the hard wood. She banged her knees as she did, his head landing in the crook of her left arm. The rest of him thudded down onto the floor, leaving her bent awkwardly over him.

He twitched, and let out a hissing moan. Then he tensed against her, grunting uncontrollably, reaching around with his right hand to claw at her arm and shoulder.

"What…What are you doing to me?" he choked. "I can't…I can hardly breathe, so if you're trying to frighten me into—"

"Quiet," Regina ordered flatly, pulling out of his grip and letting his head lay down on the floor.

"Wh…" he gasped, startled. "Who are you?"

She didn't answer. She stood up, turned toward the darkness, and snapped her fingers.

Candles and lamps flared to life all around them, illuminating the little wooden room.

A cottage. Decorated and filled with all the knick-knacks and airs belonging to a woodland witch. Herbs hanging from the bare rafters. A sturdy wooden table in the center, just past Hook's head. A huddling stone fireplace with dozens of bottles arranged haphazardly on the mantel. A woven rug. A front door, arched with dusty garlands. A workbench to Regina's right, covered in vials and leaves and mortars and pestles, and complete with a small mixing cauldron. A cot stood in the far corner, beyond the table, draped in furs. Regina glanced behind her at the doorway to the bedroom, sensing that the small, dark space beyond was empty. She turned back to the rest of the room. White candles stood upon every flat surface, now lit and flickering. And by their light, she could see him fully as he lay on the floor in front of her, his only hand pressed to his chest. His eyes—what color were they? Green? Blue? Gray?—flashed at her. Then he blinked, and his brow tightened.

"Your Majesty. What an unexpected pleasure."

Regina cocked her head.

"For you, maybe," she remarked. "Especially now, since I've decided not to kill you."

He frowned.

"Kill me? Why would you do that?"

"My mother told me that you would attack Henry," Regina answered, folding her arms again and staring down at him. "So that Emma Swan, and by proxy, Mr. Gold, would return to Storybrooke."

"Cora said that, did she?" He shifted painfully. "Brilliant idea. Wish I'd thought of it."

Regina's attention sharpened.

"What do you mean? You _hadn't _thought of it?"

"Of course not," Hook huffed, then let his head fall back, his eyes closing. "All I've been thinking of for the last twenty-four hours is how exactly I ought to breathe without searing pain shooting through my whole body."

Regina paused, weighing his words. He swallowed hard, wincing, and drew his left leg up so his knee bent.

"But you _would _have thought of it," Regina concluded. "Once you healed."

"Perhaps," he allowed, keeping his eyes shut. "But I know how long it takes for broken bones to heal without magic. And I have three of them." He paused a moment, risking a few short breaths. He managed a low sigh. "Gold will have to come back to Storybrooke sometime. His true love is here." He smirked, a sardonic eyebrow lifting. "I might just decide to bide my time."

Regina didn't move. And a cold, hard feeling sank down through her.

"What do you know?"

He smirked again, his eyes still closed.

"Very little, apparently."

"You know _something_," Regina insisted, stepping closer to him, bending slightly to glare down at him. "Something my mother doesn't want anyone else to know. What is it?"

"Forgive me," Hook said pointedly, opening his eyes and looking up at her. "But I cannot claim to understand the twisted workings of your mother's mind."

Regina felt like baring her teeth and striking him in the face. But all at once, he lost all his remaining color, and his eyes fluttered closed. Regina's thoughts stumbled. She straightened, frowning.

"Come now, Killian," she scoffed. "You're not going to faint, are you?"

"I have no desire to create a poor impression of my bravery," he whispered. "But I do invite you to try this sometime."

Regina let out her breath, resigned. She wasn't going to get any more out of him right now. She lifted a hand—

Then bit the inside of her cheek.

No magic. She'd promised Henry. And she'd broken that promise too often, lately.

She strode across the floor to the cot, pulled off some long furs, a blanket and pillow, then dragged them back to Killian. She knelt down and spread them out on the floor right beside him. When it was all arranged, she reached out and took hold of his upper arm.

"Come here. Move over and lie on top of this."

"I think you underestimate what you're asking…" he rasped, giving her an urgent look.

"Just once. Quickly," Regina said, pulling on him. "Then you won't have to move again."

Real pain crossed his face. But Regina didn't break their gaze. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his jaw, and shifted.

He grimaced as he shuffled sideways onto the fur. He stopped, let out a low grunt, and broke into a sweat.

"Good enough," Regina decided, tugging the blanket up over him. "We'll talk more in the morning."

He didn't look at her or even acknowledge that she'd spoken. He just shivered, his hand clamping around the blanket. Regina stayed where she was for a moment, then rose up, turned, entered the bedroom and shut the door.

_To be continued…_

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	3. Chapter 3

_I'm so happy you're enjoying the story! It's so fun to hear what you think!:D_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER THREE

Regina's eyes opened. She stared at the darkened ceiling. Her brow furrowed.

_Crash_.

She gripped the covers, then sat up. Her narrow bed squeaked.

Short, desperate grunting, coming from the main room.

A clattering thud.

She threw her blankets off, got up and felt her way across the room to her closet. She grabbed a robe, tugged it on and tied it, then pulled open her door.

Blackness.

She snapped her fingers again. The candles flared to life.

Hook knelt on the floor near his pallet, his maimed forearm braced on top of the table. His other arm wrapped around his midsection, and his head hung low. A blue bottle that had been on the table lay in flinders on the rug.

"What are you doing?" Regina demanded, striding toward him. "Trying to steal something or trying to run?"

He didn't say anything. He just breathed shallowly, jaw locked, his eyes seeing nothing. Regina stood still for an instant, then drew nearer and crouched beside him. She grabbed his right arm, then reached up and rested her hand on his forehead.

"You feel hot," she noted critically, absently moving her fingers through his hair near his temple, then touching his cheek with the backs of her fingers.

"If you're waiting to kill me," he rasped, his whole body shivering. "I wish you wouldn't."

Regina's hand stilled. His skin looked white as ash. She kept hold of him with one hand.

"I'm not going to kill you," she murmured. The skin around his eyes tightened.

"You just enjoy watching this, then?" he bit out. Regina gazed at him a long while. Then, she lifted her face, held onto him, and waved her left hand.

In a hazy, purple, stomach-twisting leap, they moved instantaneously across the room. The next second, Hook knelt right beside the fur-covered cot in the corner.

"Lie down on your back on the cot," Regina ordered. "I'll see what I can do."

"I can barely move—"

"I'll help you. Now do as I say."

Hook's whole body went taut, and he dragged one foot and got it under him. He slowly rose—but as he did, he let out a twisting cry of pain through his teeth. Regina stood with him, steadying him. At last, he was high enough to sit heavily down on the edge. Then he turned slightly and fell back onto the furs and pillows, releasing a sharp moan. His right arm twitched toward his midsection, and his foot kicked out in spasm.

"Try to breathe," Regina advised, turning around and grabbing a stool. She set it right by his bed and sat down on it.

"What…What do you think I've…" he choked, blinking as tears ran down his temples. He smiled reflexively, but it vanished, and his brow knotted. His fist clenched around the front of his coat, his knuckles white.

"I'm going to need to see the injury," she told him.

"Fine," he whispered hoarsely, staring at the ceiling. "Do what you want."

"You have to move your arm out of the way."

He shut his eyes, swallowing.

"I can't feel either of my arms."

She studied his hand, clamped in a vice grip. She set her mouth.

With her left hand, she worked her fingers between his hand and his coat, prying him loose of the fabric, bracing herself—

His hand came free of the fabric and immediately clamped down on her fingers. Regina bit back a wince, then pulled his hand down to rest by his side. She didn't let go—she couldn't. Then, trying to ignore the increasing pain in her hand, she swiftly reached up and unbuttoned his coat, pushed it aside, then unbuttoned his shirt and moved it out of the way as well.

His chest was covered with deep bruises and lacerations. And now, because of the fall he had just suffered, she could see him bleeding beneath his skin.

"We'll stop that first," she said to herself, laying her hand against his bare, fevered skin. He flinched, but she held firm. She drew a deep breath, gathering the magic that flickered and sparked invisibly in the air around her, channeling it, and letting it flow down through her arm and into him. The bleeding subsided, withdrew. The pressure with which he gripped her hand eased a fraction. Frowning in concentration, Regina ran her fingers up and down his ribs, until she felt a fault. Then, she lingered as the magic hummed through her and into the fracture, sealing it. She moved on to the next one—a much worse one—it took time to knit back together. His hand relaxed further. Then, her fingertips traced the last break, fusing the pieces.

She finished, lowering her eyes as she pushed his shirt and coat closed again.

He let out a sigh. A sigh of profound, weary relief. She glanced at his face. He had shut his eyes again, and another tear trickled down his temple. His hand moved. She turned to see—

And, unconsciously it seemed, he entwined their fingers, and settled that way. Regina wanted to pull away and rub her sore hand, but she realized he might clamp down again, so she stayed where she was. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why did you try to escape?" she asked.

"Ah, so I _am_ a prisoner," he murmured.

"On the contrary," Regina countered. "You are safe."

"Am I?"

"I brought this cottage and its grounds from the other world. It had been abandoned by a witch," she explained. "The wall that surrounds this place is enchanted. It is both a shield and a cloak of invisibility. Not even my mother knows it ever existed." Regina leaned closer to him. "But if you pass through the front gate, she will find you. And she _will _kill you."

"Will she," he said flatly, and finally opened his brilliant eyes and looked at her. "As opposed to _your _killing me."

"I already told you," Regina said. "I'm not going to kill you."

"Why not?" he demanded. "Isn't that what Cora told you to do?"

Regina smirked minutely.

"Did someone tell you that I always do what my mother tells me to do?"

He studied her face. Regina gazed back at him, trying to maintain her bitter, confident smile. But it faltered, and faded. And absently, she realized that he still held her hand.

"What did she do to you?" he asked. His voice was quiet. Low. And his sharp gaze pierced right through her heart.

She pulled out of his grasp and stood up, turning away, steadying her breathing.

And she waited. Waited for him to say something sarcastic, to prod her with more questions.

He was silent. And she could feel his eyes on her.

She looked at him.

He still appeared ashen, dark circles under his eyes. But he watched her steadily. Intently.

Listening.

"She killed the man I loved," Regina choked, tears springing to her eyes. "Right in front of me."

Her words registered—she could see it instantly in his face. But she couldn't bear any more questions. She turned, held her head high, and strode back to her bedroom, shut the door and locked it.

_To be continued…_

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	4. Chapter 4

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_Enjoy!_

_VVVV_

CHAPTER FOUR

"_And I never believed fairy tales came true."_

_-The Beu Sisters_

Regina sat up, tilting her head back so the warmth of the sun touched it, taking a deep breath. The air smelled of tilled earth and plants. She opened her eyes, glanced down at her dirt-covered hands, then around at the woefully weed-clogged kitchen garden in the front of the cottage. She sat on a low stool in front of the tomato plants. She scowled and dusted off her long green skirt. She had forgotten to furnish this cottage with clothing from this realm, so she was stuck wearing a simple, long-sleeved homespun dress that tightened to her form with a sash. It was one of several that hung in her bedroom closet. She sighed, and her scowl deepened at the tangle of weeds that persisted in trying to choke out her vegetables, despite the two hours she'd already spent out here this morning ripping them out by the roots.

She heard the front door open. She didn't turn—she wrapped her fingers around a twist of bind weed and tugged it loose.

Boots shuffled across wood. She felt him come out onto the little porch.

"Do you know," he called. "If you tap the little pot over the fire, it fills with stew."

"Yes," Regina answered flatly. "The same bland beef stew every time. Always needs salt."

"And that flask on the table," he went on. "No matter how much wine you pour, it's never empty."

"Very bad wine," Regina muttered. "Hardly even useful for cooking."

"Well," Killian snorted. "Aren't we cheerful this morning."

Regina rolled her eyes, pulling out three more bind-weed vines and tossing them into a pile.

"Are you always this pleasant to be around, Your Majesty?" he asked, finding his way to the carved bench on the porch and easing down onto it. Regina watched him out of the corner of her eye. He carefully leaned back, resting his hand on his chest for a moment. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Or is everything about you always grimness and tragedy?"

She heaved a sigh and sat up, looking at him squarely.

"What exactly do you expect me to do?" she demanded. "Whistle while I work?"

He grinned. Regina glared at him.

"Things aren't as bad as all that," he declared. "Truly, they're not."

"No?" Regina shot back. "I've lost both my parents, I've lost the one person I needed to protect, I've lost my kingdom, my house and my power. A sorceress of incredible power is probably _very _angry with me at the moment. _And _I'm trapped in a cramped little house with only stew to eat for perhaps the rest of time, accompanied by someone who insists upon either insulting me or accusing me, depending upon the mood."

Killian smiled again, darkly.

"That all sounds very familiar," he said, then held up his maimed arm. "But you forgot to add 'missing a hand.'"

Regina stopped. He lowered his arm, then glanced out across the grounds.

"Life is what you make of it, Your Majesty," he said. "And you can either find the good, the _reason_, the _usefulness _within it, or you can let it swallow you whole."

"Don't call me 'Your Majesty,'" Regina snapped, her face getting hot as she turned back to the weeds. "That title is reserved for a queen." Her voice lowered. "I lost everything associated with it a long time ago."

He laughed. It startled her so much her head came up and she stared at him. He shook his head, still chuckling.

"You see, _that _is the difference between pirates and the landed gentry." He pointed at her. "_You _believe—you've always been taught, I suppose—that royalty is determined by bloodlines, marriage, family connections, all that rubbish." He sat back again, waving flippantly. "_We _don't care about any of that. A pauper can become a nobleman as easy as anyone else. If his _deeds _make him so. It isn't about breeding and birthrights and nonsense like that. It's about the way a man carries himself, the way he is confident in his own skill and intelligence." He raised his eyebrows. "The way he knows that he is a free man—free to go anywhere and do anything he likes. The way he _knows _he is fit to command."

Regina watched him, listening. She lifted her chin.

"So," she said quietly. "Is that the story you spun for your true love?"

Killian gazed back at her, growing solemn.

"Something like that," he murmured. Regina sat up straighter.

"So what happened to you, _Captain _Jones?" she asked, her voice hard. "You were in love, I know. And you want vengeance because you lost her. _But, _you're foolish enough to want to exact that vengeance upon perhaps the most powerful being in all the land." She gave him a small sneer. "What did you do? Steal something from him?"

Killian looked at her.

"His wife."

Regina was expecting many things—but not that.

"His _wife_," she repeated. "He was married?"

Killian nodded, looking down.

"Before he became the Dark One," He shook his head. "He was so weak, so useless—he couldn't give her anything she deserved. They lived in a hovel, worked constantly just to survive. And she didn't love him."

"So you came along and swept her off her feet," Regina concluded. Killian laughed quietly and flashed his eyebrows, still studying the ground.

"It wouldn't have taken much. She was so desperate to get out of that prison, to see some of the world…" His jaw tightened. "She had a fire in her that couldn't be bottled up and stamped on the way _he _was letting it be."

"You didn't steal her, then," Regina said. "She came with you willingly."

"Yes," Killian nodded. "I saved her."

Regina frowned.

"So what happened then?"

Killian sighed, gazing out over the garden.

"I will say this for him, he has an excellent memory," he admitted. "Because when he finally acquired his powers, he came after me. To kill me. You see, he believed his wife had been taken from him. But then Mila saved my life by telling him the truth." Killian paused, going still. "Then, he killed _her _for abandoning their son."

Everything halted.

Regina's eyes flashed, and her eyebrows drew together.

"She had a son?" she whispered. Killian nodded.

"Yes," he said. "Just a boy, then."

"Wait," Regina held up a hand, her thoughts spinning. "I thought you said she came with you willingly."

He met her eyes.

"She did."

She stared at him, sure she had heard wrong.

"She _left _her _son." _

Killian sighed again.

"She did miss him. She mentioned him every day. But—"

Regina was already shaking her head. He stopped and frowned at her.

"What?"

"Impossible," Regina decided. "You must have drugged her—put her under a spell—"

"I did no such thing," he retorted.

"She would not leave her son," Regina said. "She _could _not."

"I am telling you, she did," Killian insisted, leaning forward, his eyes fiery. "And she _did _miss him. But she was too miserable in her old life to remain in it, even for him."

Now, Regina allowed her former slight sneer to grow into its wickedest form. She quirked an eyebrow.

"She truly had you fooled, didn't she?"

Killian blinked. She saw him mentally stagger.

"What do you mean?"

"It wasn't true love at all. She didn't love you. She didn't love anyone but herself," she said. "A woman who would leave her only child for a life at sea _can't_ give away her heart. She doesn't have one to give. And _you_," she jabbed. "_You _can smile and joke and flirt and 'make the most' out of everything because you didn't truly love her, either. You've never tasted real heartbreak. She was nothing but a conquest."

Killian leaped up and lunged toward her.

Regina stood, drew a breath and flexed her hands at her sides.

He stumbled at the beginning of the path, his face going white. He stopped, laying his hand against his healing chest, and glared at her. His gaze burned.

"And what, _Your Majesty_," he hissed. "Makes you such an authority?"

"I loved a stable boy," Regina shot back. "_He _lived in a hovel, and _yes_, he worked hard every day just to survive. There's no shame in that. He asked me to marry him, and I accepted. But my mother wanted me to marry the king." Regina lifted her head, unexpected pain resurrecting within her chest and churning around, battering against her breastbone. "Marriage to the king would have given me everything you say Mila wanted: a command, wealth, adventure, the chance to travel the whole kingdom—to _possess _it. But I didn't want any of that. I wanted to be with Daniel." Regina took a breath. It trembled. "And so my mother found him and killed him. And she forced me, with more than one curse, to marry a man twice my age." She shook her head. "After that, everything in my life turned dark. I found pleasure in nothing." She paused. "Until I found Henry." She almost smiled. "He was like…Like sunshine breaking through the clouds after a storm. He saved my life. He's still saving it." Regina leveled a look at Killian, her chest constricting. "Adventure and freedom are worth nothing if you have to sacrifice someone who loves you." She gave him a fierce, broken look. "And believe me, I _am _an authority on that."

For several minutes, neither of them moved.

Then, Killian drew a shuddering breath.

"I will be the first to confess that you may know more than I do about a woman's heart, and a mother's," he gritted. His brow knotted. "But don't you dare speak for mine."

With that he turned, limped up the porch, kicked aside the door and disappeared inside.

_To be continued…_

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	5. Chapter 5

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_VVVVV_

CHAPTER FIVE

"_There was no love in my life_

_There was no light in my eyes_

_All the tears that I had cried and cried_

_Seemed like they'd never end."_

_-The Beu Sisters_

Regina stood at the edge of the trees, behind a thick bush. She stood near the street—dangerously close. But she couldn't bear it anymore. She had to see him.

Moments after Killian had gone back into the cottage, Regina had turned and passed through the gate. She had felt the sharp _snap _as she broke the magical barrier and re-entered the "world." She hadn't paid any attention to the fact she was barefoot until she was half a mile from the cottage. By then, her heart was pounding and her head felt too light to turn back.

Now, she remained hidden, holding her breath, staring across the street, up the block, to the corner where the school bus stopped every day. She wrapped her arms around herself, and waited.

Several minutes passed. An hour. She didn't stray from that spot.

And at last, the bus pulled up. And Henry stepped out.

Regina put her fingers to her lips as her vision blurred. Had it truly been _that _long since she'd seen him? No—mere days. A week or two, perhaps.

Why did it feel like years?

He hopped down with the other children, a spring in his step. He glanced back and forth, searching…

There. A pretty young woman with very short, raven hair came around the corner followed closely by a fair, handsome man. Snow, and her charming Prince James. They beamed when they saw Henry. He answered the expression. They greeted each other. Snow touched Henry's face fondly—familiarly. Charming tousled his hair and put his arm around his shoulders. Together, with Henry in the middle, the three of them strode down the street to Granny's. Doubtlessly to go have an ice cream, and talk about Henry's latest school adventures.

Regina's tears spilled. She turned and ran.

VVVVV

She tore up the hill, following the rough path toward the cottage. Her skirts had tangled in the wild rosebushes and ripped, but she'd hardly felt the tug as she barreled through them. She saw the wall—saw the gap in it. Her face twisting, she picked up her speed…

_Snap_.

Everything quieted. The soft sunshine and color of the garden startled her. She slowed down, panting frantically. She swiped at her face.

Movement.

"Where have you been?"

Killian's voice rang like a slap. Her head came up. He stormed out of the cottage, shoulders broad, head low, his gaze pinning her to the ground.

"I went out," Regina managed.

"Out? Out where?" He held out his arms to the sides. He frowned fiercely at her. "Where is there to go, your Majesty? Doing a little spying, are we?" He hopped down the steps and loomed closer. Regina had never realized how tall he was. He lowered his voice to a deadly tone.

"Or have you decided to go back on your word and help Cora kill me after all?"

"Why do you believe _everything _is about you?" Regina roared, shoving past him and sweeping up the steps to the porch.

"What else could it be?" Killian demanded. She heard him follow her as she shoved the door out of the way and entered the cottage.

"I know what this is. You've finally had enough of me and you no longer care about what you think I know about Cora."

"Keep dreaming," Regina muttered, trying to sound caustic. But her voice broke. She heard Killian's steps falter.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," Regina muttered, turning away from him.

"It's something else entirely, isn't it?" His voice was different, now. Penetrating. Regina couldn't stand it.

"Leave me alone," she commanded, went into her little room and slammed the door.

She instantly began to pace. There was hardly room for it, between the single bed and the wardrobe and the wash stand. She glanced to her left, out the tiny front window, and wrung her hands, then paced to the wash stand. Then back to the bed. Then back to the wash stand. All the while, the pressure in her chest built, and burning tears raced down her face. She gasped. It tore her chest.

She grabbed a vase off her night stand, spun and hurled it at the door with all her strength.

It exploded, sending white porcelain flying. She clutched at her chest, fearing it would do the same.

The door eased open. She twitched away from it.

Boots crunched on glass. She swiped at her face.

"This is about your boy, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

"Go away," she gritted shakily, staring at the foot of her bed. "I told you, leave me alone."

"No," he answered. "Not until I know what is going on."

"You don't care—you wouldn't care if I told you," Regina raged, clenching her fists even as she wrapped her arms around herself. "You're a pirate. You care about yourself, your vengeance, and your ship. So go back to them and leave me to—"

"To what?" he asked, stepping closer to her. "You don't have a plan. You have no idea what to do."

"Yes, I do," she snapped back viciously, still not turning to him. "And I may be able to execute it if I am left alone for five minutes to actually think—"

"You are so _stupidly _stubborn, woman," he laughed—she could feel him shake his head and gesture in disbelief. "You cannot admit you don't know, that you're lost, that you're even _human_—"

"I ordered you to _leave _me _alone!" _ she thundered, turning on him—

He stood right before her, staring down at her with that same fiery, icy gaze—

She lifted her hand to deliver a shocking blow to his face—

He caught her wrist.

She yanked back, trying to wrench loose—

Her balance slipped. He tugged on her.

She fell forward against him.

And suddenly, as if he had caught her, he wrapped both arms around her.

Regina's forehead pressed into his shoulder—she locked up, frozen, unable to breathe. Her eyes squeezed shut, her arms pinned between her chest and his.

His grip tightened. His one hand took a fistful of the back of her dress. She stiffened against it.

Then, she started to tremble.

Her whole frame went weak. She felt like she had turned to water.

And his arms gentled.

"I don't care if you're a queen or a sorceress or simply a stupidly stubborn woman," he said quietly in her ear. "But you have to breathe."

Regina's chest abruptly unlocked and she gasped in a breath.

She pulled in the scent of brine, open air, rum and tobacco and leather. She shuddered weakly, unable to open her eyes, and more tears fell.

For a long while, they just stood that way, Regina doing nothing but trying to breathe without it hurting her from the crown of her head to her heels. Very, very slowly, with each breath, the pain drained out of her.

Then, he lowered his head and leaned the side of it against hers.

Regina's eyes opened. She turned her face, just a little, and waited. His maimed arm held her close. His good hand relaxed, and reached up to rest against the base of her neck.

But he said nothing. She could sense his brow furrowing. And then she felt him swallow.

She moved.

His heart gave a hard hammer against her ear. His arms almost came loose of her…

She slipped her arms around his waist, lowered her head again, and closed her eyes. He hesitated.

Then, his arms settled against her again.

Regina forced all thoughts out of her mind, focusing on his steady heartbeat. She could have stayed that way indefinitely. Warm. Weary. Safe.

But then his lips moved against her hair.

"I hate to say this, sweetheart," he murmured. "But you're bleeding."

"What?" Regina gasped, pulling back…

And, as if she had awakened, she felt a hundred stinging sensations on her feet, ankles and hands. She lifted her hands confusion to see lines of blood on her palms. He held onto her elbow.

"I was tangled in a rosebush…" she remembered, frowning down at her fingers.

"Here, sit down," Killian instructed, lightly pushing her back so her legs bumped against the edge of the bed. She sank down onto it.

"Is there any salve in this cupboard-of-a-house?" he asked. She nodded, numb tears still trailing down her cheeks.

"On the work bench. It's a bottle marked with a painting of a white leaf."

"Excellent." And with a clatter of glass beneath his boots, he left the room. Regina sat still, her trembling fingers lying in her lap.

He returned and held up a small bottle for her to see.

"This it?" he asked, eyebrows raised. She nodded. He bit the cork of the bottle, popped it loose and spat it sideways, then knelt down in front of her.

"Hold out your hands," he said. Bewildered, Regina did so. He poured a bit of the green, sparkling salve into each one of her palms, set the bottle on the floor with a clunk, then reached up with his fingertips and began methodically smoothing the salve into her cuts. Dull chills ran up her arms and into her chest as she watched him work.

"This smells familiar," he commented. "Rather like a salve the young sailors use, when they've cut open their hands on the ropes. It's an excellent healer—fast—and keeps the wounds from getting infected."

"Yes, I'm sure it's much the same," Regina murmured. He continued for a while, then half smirked.

"Picked a fight with a rosebush." He shot a glance up at her. "How did the bush come out of it?"

Regina snorted, rolling her eyes, but feeling a tug at the corners of her mouth.

"Now, let me see your feet," he said, finishing with her hands and getting down on one knee in front of her. He lifted her right foot onto his knee, and winced.

"You tore yourself up, darling." He shook his head, assessing the long, jagged cuts lining her skin. Regina swallowed and glanced away.

"I don't even feel it."

"You will," he answered, pouring salve onto the top of her foot and beginning to lightly rub. "As soon as you try putting on your stockings."

Regina didn't say anything. He worked carefully, brow furrowed. He glanced up at her again.

"Ever consider growing out your hair?"

She blinked, then regarded him quizzically.

"What?"

"I remember your hair being quite a bit longer. Gorgeous black hair. Not that it isn't pretty now," he said, gently lowering her right foot and taking up her left. "In fact, you're one of the few women that would look lovely even if she were completely bald."

The laugh that broke through Regina's defenses almost hurt her. And it made tears fall down her face. She wiped at them, fighting back her smile.

"Flattery will not avail you, Captain."

"Oh, it _always _does," he assured her, grinning. "Let it never be said that Killian Jones once failed to make a woman feel beautiful."

She looked down at him. He was already gazing at her.

His smile remained, then faded into one that was entirely different. He ducked his head in a surprisingly-boyish manner, and continued putting salve on her many cuts until he was finished. Then, he sighed, straightened, and addressed her.

"Now, I think you ought to rest."

"I'm fine—" she tried.

"You were up all night long nursing my broken carcass," he said flatly, getting to his feet. "And I don't mean to offend you, but you look as if you need it."

Regina wanted to argue more. But then a wave of exhaustion swept over her, and she could only nod.

"Here," he offered, reaching around her to tug the blankets down. She moved, sat back on the bed and pulled her feet up. He lifted the blankets so she could slide beneath, then laid them over her.

"Thank you," Regina managed, sinking down into the pillow.

"Don't mention it," he said frankly. "I'll keep watch. You go to sleep and dream of mermaids." He strode back toward the door.

"Mermaids?" Regina lifted her head.

"No, you're right, not mermaids," he amended, stopping on the threshold and grabbing the doorframe. He looked at her. "That's fodder for nightmares. Instead, dream of…" He quieted, and grew thoughtful. "Dream of a desert island among the stars, where magic hangs so thick in the air that if you're lucky enough to go there as a child—you'll never grow up."

Regina's heart stirred.

"Where is that?"

He smiled.

"I'll tell you all about it sometime. Sweet dreams, Majesty." And he left, shutting the door behind him.

Regina lay back down, her brow furrowing, worry turning through her. The bed was soft and warm, but though she tried to sleep, a sudden fear kept her awake. Fear—and a shimmering touch of something else.

_To be continued…_

_Review!_


	6. Chapter 6

_I'm so happy you're still liking it!_

_Please let me know what you think!_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER SIX

"_This is the way a fairytale feels_

_This is the way I know it's real_

_Because this is the way a broken heart_

_Heals__**."**_

_**-**__The Beu Sisters_

Regina took a deep, slow breath, and opened her eyes. She glanced up.

Gray light filled the room. Gray, shadowy light.

Dawn.

She frowned, lifting her head.

She must have slept all the rest of the afternoon and all night long. She looked out the window. It was probably about six in the morning.

She sat up. It felt chilly in here. She climbed quietly out of bed and found her robe. Her feet felt much better now, as did her hands. She wrapped her robe snugly around herself and turned to the door…

The shattered glass was gone. He must have swept it up while she slept.

Folding her arms around her chest, ignoring the flutter there, she tiptoed out into the main room. She stopped.

His cot stood empty, neatly made. The front door hung slightly open. The early morning seeped through.

Carefully, she walked toward it, pushed it aside, and stepped out onto the porch.

Killian sat there on the edge of the porch, colorless in the light of the dawn, his clothing black, the profile of his face white. He held a pipe in his one hand—a long pipe that looked like the ones wizards smoked. A thin trail of fume wound upward into the air. It smelled sweet and earthy. He stared out, across the garden, at the gate. His eyes distant. His brow furrowed. Regina paused, studying him.

"Have you ever had one of those moments," Killian murmured, without turning. "When everything suddenly snaps into focus?"

Regina frowned, listening to the ebbs of his voice.

"Once or twice," she answered. He nodded, his jaw tightening.

"They're like…that first gasp after you've been holding your breath underwater too long," he mused. "Or the scald on the back of your hand that wakes you, warning you that your cabin is on fire."

Regina nodded too, saying nothing.

He turned, and his limitless pale eyes met hers.

"I know why your mother wanted you to kill me."

Regina's heart started.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because I know the truth," he answered, glancing out at the garden again. "The truth about her. Her intentions." He looked at her again, his expression hard. "The reason she came looking for you in the first place."

Regina went cold. But she could do nothing but stand there, waiting for him to go on.

"She told me herself," he said. "She told me she was going to break you. She was going to take everything away from you. Everything. Then she planned to tell you she was sorry, to beg your forgiveness, at the moment when you felt most trapped, most alone. Then you would be desperate enough and heartbroken enough to turn to her…" His gaze softened. He faced forward and glanced down. "Because you thought you had no one else who loved you."

Regina swallowed hard. It hurt.

"She wants you under her thumb again, Regina," Killian said quietly. "So she can manipulate and use you—your talents, your power, to rule _this _world and any others she can snake her way into." He shook his head once. "And me…_Me, _she played like a fiddle." He threw his pipe out onto the path. It thudded into the dirt. The stem broke. Regina took a step toward him.

"What do you mean?"

He heaved a sigh.

"Well, there's yet _another _reason she wanted me dead." He rubbed his eyes, then dropped his hand. "My purpose is fulfilled. I did exactlywhat she wanted me to do."

"What was that?" Regina pressed.

"I helped her get here with the understanding that she would allow me to have revenge on Rumpelstiltskin," he told her. "I gave no thought to what would happen _after_—I was so hell-bent on making _him _suffer the way I had been. At first I planned to kill him. But, when I realized how powerful he was, I planned to injure the one he loved, beyond repair." He paused. His jaw clenched again. "It was a brilliant move on Cora's part."

A light began to dawn in Regina's mind. But her eyes narrowed. She needed to hear him say it.

"If I had succeeded in killing Rumpelstiltskin," Killian said slowly. "It would have been a great boon to her. I would have eliminated the only one in this entire kingdom powerful enough to withstand her. Besides you," he gestured half-heartedly to Regina. "But she planned to have you by the throat. And if his _death_ was too much to hope for, and I merely injured the one he loved…" Killian held up his finger. "Then his hatred would be diverted from her to me. And _then_, Cora could swoop in to offer him some assistance, a gift, a treaty…" He snarled. "I heard all the talk in the hospital. He somehow received a magical device from somewhere and that is why he has left Storybrooke to find his son." His expression hardened further. "Either way, I have effectively removed Rumpelstiltskin from Cora's path. And now I am not just expendable—I am a liability." He arched an eyebrow. "Because if I am clever enough to do all that…Who knows what other mischief I could get into."

Regina stood there for a long time, turning everything over in her mind.

Then, she crept forward, eased down, and gingerly sat on the edge of the porch next to him. Their shoulders touched. Regina lowered her head.

"I'm sorry."

She felt his frown.

"For what?"

"For my mother," she murmured. "For being the reason she is here, destroying everything. Causing all this pain."

"We none of us can pick our relatives, sweetheart," Killian answered. "And for all her treachery and cunning and whatever other irritating vices she has up her sleeve—she didn't count on you."

Regina lifted her head and looked at him. He looked back openly.

"You didn't fall for anything she was planning," he reminded her. "You went with your gut, dared to disobey her. And from what I've heard, you've done that more than once."

"That hasn't always worked out extremely well," Regina answered bitterly. He smirked.

"It did this time," he said, then regarded her askance, slightly teasing. "Unless you are, in fact, wishing me dead by now."

She looked back at him, right into his eyes, completely serious.

"I don't wish you dead," she told him. "I don't remember the last time someone was so honest with me."

He half smiled, and then it faded. He gazed at her a moment, then cleared his throat.

"Well, don't tell anyone," he warned, mock-solemnly. "Honesty is a terrible flaw to find in a pirate."

Regina almost smiled. Then, a strange, aching pain swelled through her chest. Her eyebrows drew together as she pondered the look of him—the angles and surfaces of his handsome features, the way his hair fell across his forehead. The set of his mouth. The way she felt when he looked at her. Looked at her, spoke to her, in a way she had not been looked at or spoken to in such a very long time…

She took a deep breath, then closed her eyes as she released it, focusing.

She opened her eyes. She gazed down at his right hand.

"You enjoy rings, Captain?"

He lifted his hand and flicked his fingers.

"When traveling at sea, it's always wise to keep one's treasure on one's person."

"That hand seems crowded," Regina remarked.

"Well, the other isn't…" he began. And trailed off.

He froze.

His eyes went wide.

Then, he slowly, _slowly_, brought his left arm up and around…

"My hand," he breathed.

And he stared down at his own left hand, perfectly and flawlessly restored, without a mark upon it. He flexed it, then clenched it in a fist, then flexed it again. Regina sat still, biting the inside of her cheek.

He let out his breath and gasped it in, tears gleaming in his eyes. He turned to her, frantic, stunned—and grabbed her right hand in both of his.

"Oh, you…You _darling _girl," he cried, running his new fingers all across hers, turning her hand over and desperately caressing her palm, her fingertips with his. As if he had never felt anything like it. Regina let out a staggering laugh, shivering and trembling. He stopped, and gripped her hand tightly, searching her face. She felt _him_ trembling, now. His eyes locked on hers. When he spoke, his voice was low, unsteady.

"No one has ever done something like this for me."

Regina smiled shakily.

"It's the least I can do in exchange for the truth."

He sat motionless for an instant, staring straight into her eyes. Her heartbeat thundered.

He reached up, and took her face in his hands.

Her heart stopped.

His eyes fixed on her lips.

Then—

A blinding flash of indigo light.

And an earth-shattering explosion.

_To be continued…_

_Review!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Hehe, I knew you'd like that one! Hope this one exceeds your expectations!_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER SEVEN

Strong arms wrapped like a vise around her. They crushed her ribs as the two of them were blown through the air.

Clamping her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, Regina threw out a reflexive shielding spell—

They hit the ground and rolled. They toppled over each other, thudding across the rapunzel and tearing through the tomato vines. They skidded to a halt in the middle of the garden. Regina clenched the front of his coat in both hands—he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck as bits of wood and glass rained down all around them and on top of them, chattering like hail.

The cacophony stopped. Regina lifted her head, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the high-pitched ringing in her ears. Dust settled over them. Her vision came back into focus—Killian lay half beneath her, his face twisted, fresh cuts gleaming red on his forehead, cheekbone and lip. He groaned, blinking his eyes open.

"Are you all right?" Regina gasped, clasping a hand to his face.

"I'll live," he assured her, coughing. "You?"

"How sweet."

Regina's heart stalled at the sound of the smooth, female voice. She pushed herself up off the ground into a sitting position, twisting to stare back at the cottage…

Which was now a hulking, charred ruin. The roof had blasted off, its walls had collapsed, and every surface crumbled with ash and hissed with black smoke. And in the center of it, where Regina and Killian had just been sitting, stood an older woman in an elegant, royal purple cloak—a woman with piercing eyes, and a subtle, cold smile.

Her mother.

Cora's slight smile broadened.

"First a stable boy, and now a pirate." She shook her head. "I can see that your tastes haven't improved much."

"What do you _want?"_ Regina demanded. Absently, she felt Killian halfway sit up, and twine all his fingers through hers. She squeezed, and held on.

"You disobeyed me," Cora said, her voice hard. "I told you to kill him."

"I haven't taken orders from you in years, _mother_," Regina snapped back. "What makes you think I would start now?"

"The fact that I am the only one who knows what's best for you," Cora said simply, raising her eyebrows. "I am the only one, in all the realms, that you can trust."

"You know, you might have been more successful with that pitch," Killian commented. "If you hadn't just blown her house to cinders."

Cora laughed lightly. It sounded like funeral bells.

"Charming to the very last." She shrugged. "Pirate or not, I can see why you like him."

"Then why don't you leave me alone?" Regina gritted. "I don't want any part in your plan. If I'm the reason you came to Storybrooke, you wasted your time." Regina leveled an icy glare at her. "Go back to the Enchanted Forest. You can have it. But leave us be."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Cora said sadly. "It's always been my duty, my burden, to save you from your own poor judgment. To keep you on the path toward the greatness you deserve."

"By killing all the people I care about?" Regina cried. Cora looked at her.

"Haven't you learned by now, sweetheart?" she asked. "Love is weakness."

She flung out her hands.

Flashing black magic shot toward them—

Blasted them apart. Regina flew toward her right, her vision going blank. She crashed through the herbs, her head spinning.

As soon as she stopped, she clawed at the ground, baring her teeth.

She lurched to her feet, her skirt and robe torn, clenching her fists.

Fifty meters away, Killian—equally dizzy—struggled to climb to his feet. Cora stepped down from the rubble and advanced on him.

Regina spun her hands around each other and hurled a ball of flame at her mother's head.

Cora sidestepped, whirling to face it, threw up her hands and blocked it. The flames splattered and diffused. Regina didn't break stride. She regained her balance, stepping over the rows of ruined plants, conjured a spiked ball of ice and threw it with all her might.

Cora took half a step back, then batted the ice ball back. The ice splintered and spat at Regina. Regina knocked the shards down without touching them.

"You don't want to do this, Regina," Cora warned.

"Oh, yes," Regina growled. "I do."

Cora's hands moved. Light twisted above them, then flashed toward Regina.

Ah—so they were done with fundamental spells. On to the advanced curses.

Very well.

Regina summoned the counter to her mother's Paralyzing Curse, slicing straight through it, sending it uselessly careening off in two directions behind her. Two and a half steps forward, and a Battering Ram Curse of her own burst out. Cora leaped to avoid it—it hammered into a tall tree behind her and toppled it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Regina caught sight of Killian, now standing, watching uncertainly. She desperately hoped he would stay back. Clever and brave as he was, he was out of his league.

Regina sidestepped, maneuvering her mother back, putting herself nearer to Killian. If she could just get in front of him…

Her mother saw her plan.

She summoned a dozen knives out of thin air, spread them out and flung them. They sang. Regina's breath caught. If just _one _of them made it past her—

She swept one arm in a tall arc—an Iron Shield spell launched into existence in front of her. The knives _pinged _off its surface and dropped, broken, to the ground. Regina gasped, feeling strength drain out of her—

A blast of power—a Dragon Shout—slammed into her shield.

It cracked—broke apart. Fell.

The Dragon Shout barreled through. Struck Regina.

Her teeth rattled. She flew backward and crashed to the ground, onto her back. Numb.

Someone called her name. As if through water…

She opened her eyes. Saw blurry forms. She turned her head to the left…

Killian's foggy shape. He was running toward her—too slowly, it seemed...

And Cora's eyes fixed on him like the gaze of a hawk.

She lifted her hand.

"_No!" _ the cry tore from Regina's body before she could even feel her limbs. Killian skidded to a halt, spun and faced her mother…

A band of pure energy, like lightning, burst from Cora's hand and lashed out toward him.

Regina knew it instantly.

A Killing Curse.

Regina flung a spell—half formed and twisted—straight at the lance of lightning—

And the whole glen exploded.

Regina saw a blinding, all-consuming ball of white light, and heard the edge of a sound like savage thunder.

Then, everything went black.

VVVVV

Regina coughed. Her whole chest hurt her. She gasped in a breath—tasted dirt. And blood.

She twitched, panicked, and opened her eyes.

She lay on her stomach amidst a pile of sundered plants and shards of wood. Her whole head ached. She sat up, wincing. Dust and rocks tumbled off her. She coughed again, and looked around.

Early twilight hung in the sky. Silence reigned over the woods. Her blasted cottage stood still. Quiet.

Her mother was nowhere to be seen.

"Killian," Regina croaked. She shoved a long board off her legs and staggered to her feet. "Killian?" Her gaze swept over the ruin as her heartbeat sped up. It was getting dark—she couldn't see very well—what if her mother had taken him to—

She jerked to a halt.

A dark form lay on his back among the pale leaves of rapunzel.

Regina strangled. She wrapped her fingers around her throat, and stood still for a very long time.

"No, no," she mouthed. "No."

Her right foot slid forward, almost a step. She stopped.

"_No…" _she cried, tears spilling down her cheeks.

She couldn't bear to move. The very idea of moving closer, of running her gaze over his lifeless frame, his expressionless face…God forbid that his beautiful eyes would be still open, staring sightlessly up at the fading sky…

Her lips moved, trying to form his name. She couldn't.

She started forward, limping, blinking as more hot tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

She stumbled to a stop by his feet. She closed her hand to a fist and pressed it against her heart. She could feel it—her whole chest was going to break apart at any moment…

He lay utterly still. His right hand rested on his chest. His long-lashed eyes were mercifully closed. Handsome face pale as morning.

Her knees gave way. She crumpled to the ground, squeezing her eyes shut. Sobs choked her, but she hardly made any sound. Her body felt frail, broken. She had seen this too many times…

She crawled her way forward, drawing closer to his side, tears still tumbling. She could look upon him fully now—his peaceful features, the way his hair fell across his brow. Trembling endearments sprang to her lips and died there. She didn't want to touch him. She didn't want to cradle another dead man in her arms and scream at him to look at her, to fervently caress his face and kiss his forehead and rock him back and forth as she wailed…

Her hand moved of its own accord. It grasped his hand, entwined their fingers and squeezed.

He was warm.

Regina gasped so hard she thought she would split in half.

She had lain over there, unconscious, all day. His corpse should be ice cold by now…

Her heart nearly ruptured her chest.

"Killian? Killian!" she said hurriedly, her tears clearing as she scooted closer, brushing his hair away from his face. She pressed her fingers to his throat.

A pulse.

A steady pulse.

He was alive.

For an instant, relief so powerful that it sent literal anguish through all her veins swept through her.

Then, she frowned hard.

Her mother had been trying to strike him with a Killing Curse. Regina had tried to counter with…something. She put a hand to her forehead. With what? What had she been trying to form…?

She stared down at him.

Whatever it had been, it must have hit him in combination with her mother's curse.

Regina held her hand over his face and snapped her fingers.

Nothing.

She closed her eyes, rubbed her hands together, then laid her fingertips on his forehead. Magic surged through her arms and into his body. She opened her eyes.

He lay as motionless as ever. Except he was breathing.

A pained expression crossed her face as she wracked her brain.

She tried something else: a Purging Spell. Then a Dis-Spell. Then an End All spell.

Nothing worked.

Hours she sat there, her legs cramping, trying certain spells over and over until she could think of another one. The sky got dark. The full moon peered down through the trees. A chill settled in the air—she could see her breath. Her fingers stiffened. Still, she worked.

Until she ran out of spells.

It had taken more than four hours, but it was done.

She had exhausted the length and breadth of her entire education. All of it had been futile.

Regina stared down at him, her whole body aching.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, barely touching the back of his hand. She hung her head. Her fingers closed around his. She let her breath out. It clouded around her face.

She went still.

Her head came up. She looked at him.

She set her jaw.

She took hold of his hand in both of hers, drew a deep, sharp breath—

Magic swirled and throbbed around them. The garden disappeared in a sparkling, roaring whirl.

The darkness left with a gust.

Soft, homey light flooded her vision. The ground solidified beneath her—no, a floor. A hard floor. And a thin rug. Her eyes cleared.

Killian lay on a wooden floor in a brightly-lit room. Regina, skirts in tatters, knelt beside him. She glanced up and to the right.

Snow White, Charming and Henry sat at their kitchen bar, tacos halfway to their mouths. They gaped at her.

Snow dropped her taco. It broke all over her plate.

"Regina!" Charming cried.

"Mom?" Henry yelped.

"What happened?" Snow gasped, eyes wide.

"Help," Regina said weakly, swallowing. "I need your help."

_To be continued…_

_Review!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you to all of you! Especially Rebekah, who gave me the EXACT right word;)_

_The spells herein are from Disney's "Sleeping Beauty."_

_Enjoy!_

_VVVVV_

CHAPTER EIGHT

"What happened?" Charming echoed his wife's question, much more intently, put his food down and came around the bar.

"My mother happened," Regina bit out.

"What? Where?" Snow asked, coming around to join her husband. Charming squatted down by Killian's head, scanning him over. Snow did the same.

"Mom, you're covered with blood!" Henry said, hopping down off his stool and hurrying up to her.

"I'm fine, honey, really," Regina managed to force a smile for him, reached out and caressed his soft face. The look in his bright eyes, however, showed her he wasn't convinced.

"I missed you, sweetie," she whispered. He smiled at her.

"Missed you too."

She gazed at him a moment longer, then made herself turn back to Snow and Charming.

"My mother wanted me to kill him," she began. "But when I started wondering about the reason, I decided against it. I took him to a place where I have hidden before—a little cottage in the woods. I healed him."

"His hand too," Charming remarked. Snow started, then gazed down at Killian's left hand.

"Oh…my goodness," she breathed.

"He was honest with me," Regina said plainly, trying to force back a lump in her throat. "He told me that my mother had only asked for my forgiveness after she'd tried to take everything from me. After she'd framed me for—"

"Yeah, we know," Henry cut in, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "You didn't kill Archie."

Regina stared at him.

"You knew?"

"Archie came back," Snow said. "Told us everything. We tried to find you, to make amends, but…" She shrugged sadly, glancing at Regina.

A tremor ran through Regina's form. She couldn't speak.

"Then what happened?" Charming pressed. Regina focused on him.

"Killian realized _he _had been used as well, as a pawn to get rid of Rumpelstiltskin." Regina's mouth hardened. "My mother must have been listening to us. Almost as soon as we had spoken, she attacked us."

The others grew solemn, listening. Regina went on.

"She blew the house apart. Then she went after Killian."

"Why?" Henry wondered.

"He's a liability," Charming surmised. "A loose end."

Henry frowned. But he didn't say anything.

"I fought her," Regina said. "She caught me off guard with one spell, then attacked Killian again, this time with a Killing Curse. I tried to counter it with…something." She sighed, and shook her head. "I can't remember what it was. But it connected with my mother's curse and caused an explosion. I just woke up a few hours ago, and I found him like this." Regina gestured to Killian with her free left hand. The other still gripped his fingers. "I've tried everything. Every spell and counter-spell that I know of."

"Have you tried true love's kiss?"

Regina blinked. She turned, and stared at Henry. Henry looked back at her, open and hopeful.

"What?" Regina breathed.

Charming laughed.

"Henry, she's only known him for a couple days—"

"So what?" Henry shrugged. "It happens all the time, especially where _you _guys are from. Like in Sleeping Beauty. Haven't you heard of Sleeping Beauty?"

All three adults stared at him, discomfort tightening their frames.

"It'll work!" Henry insisted, facing Regina. "You wouldn't have fought your mother to protect him if you didn't love him. You wouldn't have."

"Henry, that's enough," Snow warned gently, reaching out to take him by the arm. "Things like this are delicate—you can't just assume—"

"She said she's tried everything else," Henry cut her off. "You really think that _we're _going to come up with some other way that _she_ doesn't know about?"

Regina swallowed hard. All of a sudden, the room felt like it was tipping.

"Watch out," Charming moved, falling forward onto his knees so he knelt beside her. He took hold of her elbow with one hand, then wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Snow, let's get her to Henry's bed," he advised. "Then we can put Killian on our bed."

Regina tried to protest. She didn't need help…

But her mouth stopped working, and her vision darkened until she lost consciousness.

VVVVV

Regina awoke to the soothing sound of low humming. She opened her eyes, and gazed up at a dark, antique ceiling.

She was wrapped in softness and warmth. The caked blood on her face had been wiped clean. She sighed, and turned her head. It rested on a white pillow. She glanced over.

Snow White sat alone in a rocking chair, doing needlepoint. It was still night. A single standing lamp illuminated Snow's work. And an old book lay in her lap. Henry's book. She hummed to herself. A very old melody. One Regina barely remembered...

Regina sat up. The bed squeaked. She went still.

Snow glanced at her, smiled briefly. Then looked back down at her needlework and kept humming.

Uncertain, Regina stayed where she was for a long time. Echoes of memories rose up in her mind. Sitting beside a broad fire in a deep castle, the scent of duck and pheasant and boiled potatoes wafting through the great stone hall. Leaning back in an armchair, gazing into the flames, absently listening as Snow White hummed that selfsame tune, while tilting her head and pulling her needle up and down, up and down through the flawless fabric…

Regina's breathing slowed as her attention drifted toward the younger woman. Snow White must have been the one to tend to her, clean her, drape the blankets over her as she slept…

Regina braced herself, pushed the covers off, slipped out of bed and stood up. She took a few steps toward Snow, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Where is he?"

Snow looked up at her.

"He's on our bed, over there," she pointed to the opposite end of the room. Regina turned to look. Killian lay on top of the covers, as motionless as before.

"Charming took Henry on a walk," Snow continued softly. "It's late, but Henry was restless. We didn't want to disturb you."

Regina nodded—the only thanks she could muster. She squeezed her hands together and swallowed.

"Do you mind if I go to him?"

Startled, Snow frowned up at her.

"Of course not."

Regina held her gaze for a moment, then nodded again, folded her arms and crossed the floor. Her bare feet still hurt. Her bones ached. She paused at the iron-wrought foot of his bed and gazed down upon him.

The little lamp on the side table touched half of his form, leaving the rest in soft shadow. He breathed steadily. His eyes did not move beneath his eyelids. Regina's eyebrows drew together hard, and she bit back a surge of pain.

Snow's humming ceased. The rocking chair creaked. Soft feet padded slowly toward Regina.

Snow drew up beside her. Regina did not turn, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Snow held something in both hands.

"I don't want to bother you," Snow whispered. "But I promised Henry that I would show you something when you woke up."

Regina didn't move. Snow hesitated, then opened what she held. Henry's book. The old pages rustled like autumn leaves as she turned them.

"He said something about Sleeping Beauty," Snow said, still very softly. "Have you heard of a Princess Aurora? I actually met her, and…" Snow trailed off, then shifted. "Anyway, in the beginning of the story, an evil fairy curses baby Aurora because she wasn't invited to the feast. Here's what she says:

'_Listen well, all of you._

_The princess shall indeed grow in grace and beauty_

_Beloved by all who know her._

_But before the sun sets on her sixteenth birthday,_

_She shall prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel_

_And die.'"_

Chills ran down Regina's spine. But she showed nothing on her face—just arched an eyebrow.

"Sounds like something I would do."

Snow, undaunted, turned the page.

"But there was still a good fairy that _hadn't _given a gift to the princess yet," she went on. "And here's what _she _said:

'_Sweet princess,_

_If through this wicked witch's trick_

_A spindle should your finger prick,_

_A ray of hope there still may be in this,_

_The gift I give to thee:_

_Not in death, but just in sleep,_

_The fateful prophecy you'll keep._

_And from this slumber you shall wake,_

_When true love's kiss the spell shall break.'_

Regina straightened. Her eyes unfocused, and her mind raced.

"Now, I don't know a lot about magic," Snow admitted, closing the book. "But this sounds similar to what happened to _him_. A Killing Curse mixed with a counter spell and put him into a Sleeping Curse! And if something like that happens, this is a clear example that true love's kiss—"

"No," Regina shook her head. "Love is weakness."

Snow stopped.

"Who told you that?"

Regina didn't answer. Snow's voice hardened.

"Was it your mother?" she demanded. "Because you of all people should realize that that's a bold-faced lie."

Regina turned to her, eyes flashing. But Snow's gaze burned just as bright.

"Tell me, Regina," she challenged. "Can you think of any enchantment, any curse, _any_ incantation that the power of true love cannot break?" She shook her head. "No, you can't. Because it _isn't weakness_." She quieted her voice. "It's the most powerful magic of all."

Regina's whole body chilled. But she couldn't break Snow's gaze.

Snow's features softened, and her brow furrowed earnestly.

"You said yourself that nothing else has worked," she murmured. "Isn't this at least worth a try?"

Regina stood still. And sudden terror paralyzed her every limb. Snow offered her a smile, and touched her arm.

"I'll leave you alone." And she rustled back toward her rocking chair, sat down, and continued to sew.

The place where Snow had touched her arm shot a pang through her. Regina swallowed hard, and turned back to Killian.

For what felt like an age, she stood completely still, arms folded, watching the rise and fall of his chest. In the background, Snow rocked and sewed and hummed. The old building fell quiet otherwise.

Regina, her eyes never leaving Killian, took a breath to say something, to beg his forgiveness again…

Stopped herself. She couldn't bear to have Snow hear her.

Soundlessly, Regina stepped forward. She eased silently up to his right side, and glanced across his frame. He kept breathing. Kept sleeping.

The side of Regina's leg touched the side of the bed. She held out her right hand, slowly reaching down toward him. Her palm hovered over his heart.

She hesitated.

Her thoughts stilled. She gazed down into his face.

For an eternal moment, she stood, completely still.

She lowered her hand, and rested it on the tattered material between two buttons on his coat.

He didn't move.

Regina sank down, sat on the bed beside his arm. Words sprang to the forefront of her mind again—she painfully stopped them.

She ground her teeth, trembling as she memorized the sight of his lamplit face.

She let out a heavy breath.

"Why not?" she muttered harshly, a tear falling…

She slipped her hand up and slid it around his neck. In the same movement, she bent down toward his face, involuntarily taking in the scent of brine and earth and leather…

Her nose brushed his. She closed her eyes.

She pressed her lips to his.

And she forgot where she was.

Everything around her faded to nonexistence. She ran her thumb across his rough jawline, tasting as her tear trailed onto their lips…

He moved.

Regina didn't even have time to open her eyes.

He sat up, fiercely wrapping his arms around her waist.

She gasped—he frantically freed his right hand, slid it around the back of her head and kissed her in return—hard, deep. Regina couldn't breathe. She instantly lost her balance.

His mouth broke sharply from hers. Her eyes flew open.

He stared back at her, just two inches away, breathing raggedly.

"Regina?"

"Yes," she choked, eyes wide. He didn't let go, didn't pull back. Her hands shakily settled on his shoulders.

"Where am I?" he asked, his vivid eyes searching hers.

"In Storybrooke," Regina managed to answer. "In the house of…of Snow White, and her prince."

He let out a deep sigh—of powerful relief, it seemed—and he pulled her closer, closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. His warmth threatened to drown her.

"I had the most…terrible dream," he murmured. "I was standing in the wood, outside the burned cottage. And you were lying there in front of me. I thought you were dead." His left arm tightened around her. His right hand wove through her hair. "But when I knelt down and felt your heart—you were alive!" Regina felt his sudden smile. Her brow twisted. She couldn't stop her tears now, even for Snow White.

"But you wouldn't wake up, no matter what I did. I nearly went mad—I shouted for help. Some people from Storybrooke answered me," Killian went on. "They came running through the woods. A young man, and a boy. Asked me what happened. I told them. The boy wanted me to kiss you. He promised me it would work." Killian swallowed. "I told him it couldn't. 'Only true love's kiss breaks spells, boy,' I told him. 'She doesn't love me.'"

Regina opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Killian pulled in another breath, still leaning his forehead against hers.

"But the young man with the boy—he was stubborn about it. He said, 'Why not give it a try? What have you got to lose?' So I…I bent down next to you, asked you to forgive a presumptuous scoundrel, and…" He backed up, and gazed at her. "I had no sooner touched your lips than you sat up and I threw my arms around you…" He smiled crookedly, briefly. "And I found myself here." He swallowed, his brow furrowing intently. "_I_ was the one who was cursed, wasn't I?"

"I don't know," Regina admitted honestly, quietly bewildered.

"But _you _kissed me," he ventured, barely above a whisper. "You came to me and kissed me."

"Yes. I did," Regina breathed, her vision clouding again. For just a moment, Killian studied her face.

Then, he took her head in his hands and met her mouth with his.

She instantly got lost. She drew her arms around his neck as he bound his arms around her and crushed her to his chest. They kissed over and over, moving as if they knew each other's every intention, each taste and touch more thrilling and heart-pounding than the one before. Regina's balance reeled, her thoughts scattered. She barely noticed a distant bursting noise and faraway thudding.

Until Killian's fervor slowed, his lips lingered on hers, then parted, and he glanced past her.

"I'd be delighted to continue this, my love, but…" he sighed and raised his eyebrows. "It appears we have an audience."

Regina twisted around, still in his arms, to see Charming and Henry—both breathing hard—standing next to Snow White. Who was smiling. And crying at the same time. Charming shifted, trying to calm his panting, glancing across them.

"It worked," he decided. Regina frowned.

"What worked?"

"Wait. I know you," Killian pointed at them. "You're the gentlemen I met in the woods."

"We _kinda _met you in the woods," Henry shrugged. "More like your voice and kinda your…outline."

"My what?" Killian frowned.

"You…You must have gotten split somehow!" Snow White realized, her watery gaze darting back and forth between all of them, then resting on Killian. "When the spell hit you!"

"He thought _Regina _was cursed. We told him true love's kiss would do the trick, whatever was really going on," Charming stated. "Took some convincing, though."

"Same here," Snow White grinned shakily, swiping at her tears. In the old days—or mere hours ago—Regina might have scoffed at her. Now, she couldn't keep from smiling, wiping at her own tears. Killian reached up and brushed them away with his fingertips, then kissed her temple. Regina, weakened, leaned against him.

"So…when are you getting married?"

Henry's voice cut the air. Regina, startled, sat up. Her adopted son smiled innocently at her.

"_Married?" _she repeated.

"Yeah. That's how all the stories go," he explained. "One of you wakes the other one with true love's kiss, and you get married the next day and live happily ever after."

"Makes sense to me," Killian said in her ear. Her head whipped around. He looked back at her, without a hint of teasing.

"Are you…Are you serious?" Regina tried.

"Quite serious," he nodded.

"What…I mean, what…" Regina stammered, her pulse beginning to race. He never moved.

"Because sometime during the past two days, I fell in love with you."

Regina's heart thudded. Killian shook his head.

"Face first, with no way to catch myself. I didn't even try." He raised his eyebrows. "You've probably noticed this, darling, but whenever I do anything, I do it with reckless abandon. Never look before I leap—it wastes time." He gripped her fingers. "I'm certain you deserve someone far better than me. But I'll be hanged if I give another man a chance to take you. Call it madness, I don't care—I won't let it happen." He paused. "I wouldn't presume any of this, though, unless I had the oddest, slightest feeling that you might feel the same way about me. Which I do." He watched her frankly. "Am I wrong?"

Regina unlocked her chest, and made her lips move.

"No," she whispered.

"Then what say you?" he demanded.

"But…What about…" Regina floundered. "What about my mother? We don't even know where she is! And what about Gold? He'll begun hunting you as he gets back and discovers you're free. It's too dangerous—"

"Danger never stopped these two. I can tell," Killian gestured to Charming and Snow. "How long have you two been married?"

"We're about to celebrate our thirtieth anniversary," Snow said brightly. She then shrugged, almost apologetically. "Though it came a little…quicker than we expected…"

Killian leveled a look at Regina.

"You _can't_ let fear stop you," he murmured. "It'll paralyze you, freeze you in time. There are dangers regardless of where you are or what you're doing. But I'd much rather face them _with _you than without you." His features gentled. "If you'll have me, that is."

Regina gazed at him a long moment.

Then, she leaned in and kissed him as sweetly as she knew how. His lips softened. He touched her chin with his fingers. She withdrew, her heart still beating hard—but she smiled steadily at him, lifted her eyebrows, and said the first impulsive thing she'd said in many years.

"Why not?"

A flash of genuine, unadulterated delight flashed across his face and lit his eyes. Then, he ducked his head and covered it in rough bravado. Bravado that Regina could now see straight through. She beamed.

"Now, you've listed several problems, all irrelevant, and you forgot the most important one," he said, raising his head again.

"What's that?"

"It's the night before the wedding, and I can still see you."

She regarded him in surprise.

"I didn't take you for a traditionalist, Captain."

"What? I'm a sailor, madam," he frowned. "You'll never meet a more superstitious lot. You never change the name of a ship, you never whistle on board, you should never, _never _bring a woman on board," he chuckled and rolled his eyes. "You never sail on a Friday, and you never see the bride before the wedding."

Regina gave him an indulgent smile.

"Very well."

"And," he held up a finger. "You're not allowed to kiss me until tomorrow."

Regina's lips parted. She fought to keep her face neutral. Killian's expression became mischievous. He narrowed his eyes.

"Is that going to be difficult for you?"

Regina addressed him with supreme, haughty control.

"Of course not. You?"

He grinned wolfishly at her.

"You don't want to know."

"Little _ears!_" Snow White sang, sending them a warning smile as she steered Henry by the shoulders.

"Come on, Mom," Henry called, beckoning. "You can come sleep with me in the big bed in the loft."

"Okay, sweetie, I'm coming." Regina stood up, sliding out of Killian's arms. His hand caught hers. She stopped and turned back to him. He looked up at her, all traces of humor gone.

"Just to be certain," he whispered. "I love you."

She squeezed his fingers as her heart fluttered and panged inside her and her head whirled.

"And I love you," she breathed.

He smiled. She returned it.

"Mom, c'mon!"

They let go of each other, and Regina passed a beaming Snow White, an amused Charming, to follow Henry up the stairs. Regina climbed into the broad bed and pulled the blankets over herself while Henry quickly got into his pajamas. Then, he pounced on the bed and scrambled under the covers. Sudden, piercing joy darted through her as he snuggled closer to her, and she wrapped her arm around him.

"Tell me a story," he ordered.

"A story," Regina mused, settling back into the pillows. "Let me see…" She laid her head on the top of his, watching his fingers fiddle with a loose thread on the top of the quilt. She lowered her tone to her best story-telling voice, and began.

"Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a _beautiful _young woman, who was forced to marry…" she paused. "A _pirate_."

Henry giggled. Regina grinned.

And from somewhere down below, she heard Killian Jones chuckle.

FIN

_Review, pretty please!_


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